The Jet-SetNestled in the valley, in the Bay of the Beacon. Hidden in vaults where visuals display. Blackened bountiful tear-drops suspended, for hungry eyes an optic delight. Oh vision. Oh wonder, dark-light in our lives, seeking, craving, wanting and purchased.Ex-miners became, the new artisans of beauty, fashioned and carved the tillings away.A monkey-puzzle tree washed up on our shorelines, sinking and compressing pro...

I love laying in my hammock in my back yard in Texas. I watch the fireflies rise like sparks. I listen to the cicadas sing in the trees. It's peaceful, except for those damn boys from Fort Hood, roaring by on their motorcycles, and in their hot rods. They're a bunch of immature punks! I wish I could move away from Fort Hood so I could get some peace and quiet, but it's convenient to roll out of bed and be at work within a...

Even though I don’t consider myself to be a perfectionist, I’ve learned that others hold a different view. My daughter has admonished me for it, my mother has teased me about it, and when the instructor of my clay class said there’s one in every group, all eyes turned toward me. Two things should be pointed out from the start: 1. This tendency, which I will grudgingly admit may (does) indeed exist, extends only to profess...

I was in the backseat of the car, listening to my friends Jack and Nancy talk about the owners of the moorage where Jack docks a house-boat. "...back when Coke-Collins owned the whole moorage." said Jack. I only caught the tail end of what he had said, and only paid attention because Nancy reacted to the nick-name. "Coke? Like CocaCola?" asked Nancy. "No, like Cocaine." said Jack. "Really? This is some moorage history! I...

The Coal Wagons The coal trains ran behind our houses from morning to night, twenty four seven, thundering down from the pit to the staithes at the river, where the coal was transferred from the wagons to the ships.  Miles of seemingly endless coal wagons were pulled by a huge, blackly-chuffing locomotive. Our moms, on hearing the trains whistle, dashed to get their washing in before the ash and soot stained them. It felt...

It was official. This was the worst day of her whole life. The humiliation she felt flaunting around in a slightly revealing dress to a man she had never met before. The man was more interested in the cupcakes than her. She irritatedly growled and excused herself from the banquet, before she had to see him gorging on another one. “My father expects me to entertain that!” she shouted, once safely inside her room. Helen rus...

I am a simple country mouse. Exploring is fun. Walking down unfamiliar roads and trailsfeels wonderful. I like to wade through creeks, and turn over stones to see what bugs are under them. Experiencing new things is what brings happiness to my life. I don’t expect to ever see the Statue of Liberty or the Pietà. I don’t have the money for that kind of exploring, but I can explore those places with my intellect. Sometimes,...

(4/18/13 I sit at home with nothing to do, I ‘m all alone and feeling blue Where did the time go? That it went so fast! I was looking at the future and now it’s my past. I chose to ignore love because I felt I had time. Why oh why? Was I so blind! Now I’m all alone with my heart in my hand With no one beside me who could understand. No one really wants to be on their own And in their face it is shown! I look ahead to what...

Please, leave me alonePlease, pretend that I'm not hereIt's too much to askCause you must harassAll I want is peaceTo pace behind the mowerTo wash the dishesTo take care of thingsYou look for powerEverything belongs to youYou leave in an hourThen I can breathe againI must leave this placeBefore you sufocate meBefore I hate youTo look for some peace

It amazes me that we all seem to be looking for the same things in our lives.To be accepted by others for who and what we are. Yet I read some of the work and the comments here. Things that rings loud as I read, disturb me sometimes. Being a live and let live person, who is far from perfect myself,I have to ask, what makes another criticize or condemn someone else, for petty things or choices they make? Choices belong to...

For those who have never experienced true cold, the kind that gnaws into your bones and raises the hair on your neck, let me tell you: true cold is white. Your skin bleaches, feeling rubbery, barely part of you any more. Your body bursts into spontaneous shivers, but scarier still are the moments of stillness, only allowing your body to get colder. I huddled deeper into my anorak as I assessed the white plain: beautiful,...

Cynthia sat by Rufus’s bedside. She was scared. She’d only just met him and now he was lying there in that hospital bed, tubes coming from him and his breathing assisted by a machine. It was just precaution, they said, but Cynthia and Mrs Hatfield still couldn’t help feeling scared by the sheer amount of equipment attached to him. Cynthia couldn’t bear the thought of losing her Rufus. The doctors had knocked him out in an...

Coal-Miner Thirty year old powerloader Brian, stood amidst the crowd of jabbering miners as they waited to descend in the cage. His aching slightly overweight frame already fatigued with the stress of just getting there. He put his holdall down at his feet, then rested his arms on the guard-rail of the fence at the top of the steps leading to the bottom deck of the cage. Who wanted to be down the pit on a sunny day like t...

He’d left the dance early, needing to be alone, to think, to sort out his emotions. Then he got hungry. The one place still open was the all-night, Hilltop Café Motel and Truck Stop.With the country club dance still going on, the over air-conditioned, neon lighted café seemed empty. A few couples were sitting in the back booths. None looked familiar. Out-of-town kids, he guessed. A lot of them would have stopped in after...

No Title Yet Superlatives and adjectives, are words to describe. A verb-ing word is a doing term, behind which I can hide. Full stops and commas, I infuse, with words to halt or pause. Without such things, I'd soon be seen, writing, un-verbose? I get so tired of trying to be, thought of inter-est-ing, I use the words upon my page to try to say some-thing. Anything will do, to provoke you, into verbage or admission. When y...